


suddenly knew (i had changed)

by hecckyeah



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Perthshire Cottage (Marvel), Post-Canon, Post-S7, SO MUCH FLUFF, definitely going to be a series, probably going to be AU after the finale, so just hang tight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25797928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecckyeah/pseuds/hecckyeah
Summary: "It had only been eight months. They needed time. Everyone just needed time to breathe . . . to relax. To figure out their new mission, which was . . . no mission.But adjusting to the domestic life had proven a thousand times harder than Daisy thought. She was so used to running around, gearing up for one mission or another, always worrying about her team and if they would make it through the day . . . She had let her day-to-day life slip through the cracks. And now she had to learn how to pick it back up and do boring adult things like (heaven forbid) cooking."
Relationships: Leo Fitz & Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Skye | Daisy Johnson & Daniel Sousa, Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 10
Kudos: 139





	suddenly knew (i had changed)

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is short, but I just had to get it posted today! Consider this the first installment of a (hopefully) very long series of drabbles, showing the life of our most favorite agents post-season-7. Inspired by @ohifonlyx33 on tumblr and her WONDERFUL headcanons for the team's last mission together. :)
> 
> The title was taken from the song "always be loving you" by My Brothers and I. It is such a perfect Dousy song <3
> 
> Without further ado . . . I hope you enjoy!

.

.

.

“So, when are you two moving in together?”

Daisy dropped her knife with a  _ clang _ and fumbled to stop the tomato from rolling away. “Uh, what?”

Jemma smiled, that tell-tale twinkle in her eye that told Daisy she was up to absolutely no good. She scraped some herbs off her cutting board into the pan, and grabbed a potato to slice. “That apartment Sousa found is far too small for long-term living.”

“I’m sure he’s fine there. Military barracks were smaller.” Daisy wiped her hands on a towel and rubbed her thumb where she had jammed it against the counter.

“Daisy,” Jemma reprimanded. “I know you’ve talked about it.”

The truth was, they had talked about it . . . sort of. Daniel was far too old-fashioned to even  _ begin _ thinking about cohabitation, and Daisy didn’t want to push it. Eight months had passed since the team retreated to  Perthshire together to lay low and start their lives fresh, and yet it didn’t even seem like they’d been there a week.

Fitzsimmons had already purchased a very nice, cozy, spacious cottage just outside the town of Kinloch Rannoch, complete with a view of the beautiful Loch Rannoch. Deke decided to rent a tiny studio apartment above a shop in town, and Sousa moved in right across the hall from him. (They had ended up as friends, even though Daisy never understood how. She guessed they had bonded over both being 70 years out of time . . . But who could say?)

Mack and Elena had opted to buy a tiny house on the edge of the river, and Daisy had simply chosen to place herself right between Sousa’s apartment and Fitzsimmons’ cottage, so she was within easy walking distance to both. 

“And you know that he’s not comfortable with that yet. Living together and not being married was . . .  _ scandalous _ in his time.” Daisy brushed a piece of hair from her face and continued slicing tomatoes.

Jemma raised an eyebrow and grinned mischievously. “I know a good solution—”

“Nope.” 

“It’s only a  _ suggestion _ .” Jemma's voice softened and she looked up into her friend’s eyes. “I know you love him.”

Daisy sighed, looked up, and smiled at the thought of what Jemma was implying. “ Of course I do. That doesn’t mean we’re both ready for—”

Jemma smirked. “I know. Just a thought.”

It’s not that marriage hadn’t crossed her mind. It was too soon, and honestly . . . she just hadn’t completely approached that particular topic with Daniel yet. She was content to let it go for a while. It had only been eight months. They needed time. Everyone just needed time to breathe . . . to relax. To figure out their new mission, which was . . . no mission. 

The world was safe, and the less the team interfered, the further the  Chronicoms would retreat. It was strategic, so far it had been working, and thanks to that plan, the whole team could finally disappear. 

But adjusting to the domestic life had proven a thousand times harder than Daisy thought. She was so used to running around, gearing up for one mission or another, always worrying about her team and if they would make it through the day . . . She had let her day-to-day life slip through the cracks. And now she had to learn how to pick it back up and do boring adult things like (heaven forbid)  _ cooking. _

_ “Ow!”  _ Daisy dropped her knife again and took two flying steps to the sink, thrusting her finger under the cold running water. 

Jemma looked up. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just my stupid clumsy fingers and the--” she hissed “--tomato acid . . . juice. Whatever. Who knew cooking was this dangerous?”

A voice from the hallway made her jump. “More dangerous than taking on a supervillain by yourself?”

Daisy’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart did a tiny somersault. 

Craning her neck around to glare at Daniel, she said, “That was different. Cooking is . . . unpredictable. At least with Malick all he could do was quake me.” She shook the water off her hand and turned to face him. 

Sousa’s hair stuck up every which way—it had been a very windy autumn—and the top two buttons of his dark red shirt had come undone. Daisy had finally managed to get him to start wearing jeans, but he was too stubborn to give up his button-downs. (She wasn’t complaining, to be honest.) He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and was wearing an incredulous look, arms crossed. 

“And that makes it better . . . how?” Daniel set his jacket down on a chair and gave Jemma a quick, friendly squeeze on the shoulder in passing. He had become fast friends with the whole team, especially this smart, kind, helpful scientist who had allowed him to walk again, for the first time in over ten years. There was no way to repay that, but he was trying.

“Because I survived fighting Malick,” she countered. “My fingers might not survive this meal.”

Daniel shook his head, that teasing glint still present in his eye. “Sounds awful. You could always jut give up cooking. You’re right—might be too dangerous.” 

“I could.” Daisy pointed at Jemma, feigning anger. “But she won’t let me quit.” 

Jemma tilted her head and handed the abandoned knife to Daisy. “Correct. There are things every person should know, if you’re going to be running a household.” 

Daisy opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again. A weird silence filled the room. 

She glanced up at Daniel, who had turned a strange shade of pink and was pointedly staring at his shoes.

Jemma looked up sharply, noticed the awkwardness, and hurriedly said, “I mean . . . what—what I meant was . . . um . . .  _ eventually _ ,” she swallowed, “ _ if either _ of you should . . . at some point _ —separately--” _

“It’s okay,” Daisy said quickly. “Jemma. I know what you meant.”

Jemma was blessedly saved from responding, as a little figure came  _ thudding _ down the stairs, landing heavily on each step and rubbing her eyes.

“Ah, look who’s awake,” Simmons said with a smile. “How was your nap, darling?”

Little Celeste Fitz-Simmons fixed her striking blue eyes on her mother, grinned, then glanced around the kitchen. “Good,” she answered quietly, descending the last few steps and shuffling toward the nearest person, who happened to be Daniel. Her long eyelashes fluttered and she raised her tiny hands up toward her uncle. 

Daisy couldn't describe the feeling that arose in her stomach when she watched Sousa swing the little girl up, settling her comfortably against his chest.  Cece’s feathery blonde hair brushed against his cheek as her head came to rest heavily on his shoulder. 

“Still sleepy?” he asked softly, and the girl just nodded. 

Daisy swore her heart exploded. She had watched him interact with the littlest Fitzsimmons from day one (when he had been so awkward and nervous around such a small child), and watching their adorable uncle/niece relationship progress to something so loving and so (could she even think it?)  _ paternal  _ . . . had been . . . enlightening. To say the least.

She took a deep, silent breath and caught Jemma’s knowing gaze. 

Why hadn’t telepathy been invented yet? Oh, right. Because Jemma Anne Simmons could read minds, and also convey anything she wanted with just one glance. Daisy blushed and shook her head just a milimeter. Now was not the time for  _ that _ conversation either.

She let the warm, fuzzy feeling (so uncharacteristic of her, she thought) seep into the cracks in her soul. 

Daisy picked up the knife again, grabbed another tomato, and smiled. This life . . . This new, strange, relaxing, perfectly  _ normal _ life . . . 

She could definitely get used to it.


End file.
